Anniversary
by Amazon Bunny
Summary: The paved trail of the past, and the hazy road to the future...Link lingers between them. Zelink


Anniversary

* * *

"Hey," a girl whispers to her friends. "Over here."

It's a school day, and a half dozen little faces are crammed up against the high wooden fence. Skipping school; and the fact that they are just kids makes the prospect even more thrilling. A similar principle explains why they're sneaking around a small wooden cottage.

"Creepy," another girl shivers.

It's the fact that a deranged murderer lives inside that hut of a house that it's a place all kids were told to avoid. And that's why they're all there.

All they would have to do is wait until the full moon to know why. Ghosts of his victims prowl the lot, say the villagers, including a former Hylian princess. Or they could just ask his kid. But nobody wanted to befriend that scary child...or at least, nobody with a right mind. She is, in her own creepy way, as awful as her father.

But nonetheless, girls crowd around the boards to get a look at the handsome killer.

"See that?" the ringleader points, trying to loosen two boards a little more so the peephole could be just a smidgen bigger. "Under the big tree. He's polishing that thing again. That grave!" She giggles madly.

The giggles echo through the rather empty property. The man pays no heed to the children; he minds his own business. A rag in hand and a soapy bucket in another, he carefully, gently, lovingly cleans the headstone. Around his famous Kokiri attire hangs a simple necklace with the Hyrule Royal Family Crest as its pendant.

"Jesus, he's been cleaning that for ages!" the tall redheaded girl complained, grinding her teeth. "What's so special about it that he has to clean it every day!"

"I hear he's doing the skinny stable girl," says a blonde in a hushed murmur. "Everyone knows they have. I hear she's pregnant!"

"That's a fat load of shit," the ringleader, a brunette, whispers, shoving the blonde down so she could have a better look. "That stable girl is a whore. She'll do anything to get a lay."

"My parents said so!" the blonde retaliated.

"Your parents are a bunch of old fuckers," a raven-haired girl said darkly. "They'redrowning in their own shit. My parents told me his life's a tragic love story."

"I bet he hasn't even touched any other lady since his wife died!" says the redhead, still peering through the rickety boards.

"_I_ hear that his wife was a big butt-munch," the blonde said, chewing on her lower lip.

"Your parents tell you that?" the raven-haired girl asks scathingly. "Because-"

"Shh!" the ringleader hushes them, but it's too late. The man places the dirtied rag in the bucket and stands back to read the tombstone, and turns to the fence, where four young schoolgirls are crowded. He raises his hand--

In an instant, all four children are scrambling to get back to the school.

* * *

It's an old building, weather beaten and cracked in several places. Yet, he always, _always_, makes sure his meetings with the Captain are secure. It's not a top-secret government information; it's that no one would ever dream of wanting to eavesdrop on a mass murderer and a severely stressed military captain and get away with it. 

"I hear Zelda is being kept out of town again, Fallon," the man says, his voice quiet.

"Wel-l-l," the captain curls and uncurls his thin mustache. "The townsfolk are afraid, you see. I can't exactly blame them, she's a strange one-"

"Why should they be afraid?" the homeowner says slowly, his blue eyes flashing. "She is as sane as any of them!"

"My good man, do you really think they'll accept the daughter of a man who killed the princess!" Fallon exclaims passionately. "Link, you're a man with a good head on your shoulders. Do you think that the people will believe it was an accident? You fled the crime scene!"

"I didn't _flee_," Link hissed. "I didn't even _know-_"

"The townsfolk don't believe that!"

"The townsfolk are out of their minds," says Link harshly. "They are afraid of all the violence around them...they think they must find a scapegoat to blame for all their fears..."

Fallon opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it furiously. They stare at each other in strained silence. The captain takes his hat and jams it on his head. Striding to the door, he gives a curt nod of farewell and steps outside.

* * *

Zelda hums a melancholy tune. She remembers it from long ago; someone used to hold her in their arms and sing it. 

She walks across the drawbridge. The chains are rusted with age. Townsfolk and merchants alike maintain a large radius as she crosses. She ignores this; she's seen it too many times. Children stop playing around the fountain and scamper to their parents as she approaches. The marketplace is silent as she walks by.

Zelda is a pretty girl. Around eight, she inherits her golden curls from her mother, and piercing blue eyes from her father. Her expression is always alert. The child is a genius, and everyone knows it.

She walks into the library.

Her father worries that she spends too much time reading books, and not enough time socializing. She comes home in the evening, reciting poems, repeating phrases from books, or describing the story of the Hero of Time and his princess. She doesn't know her father is the Hero, and he doesn't ever bother to tell her. He seems to feel that she shouldn't know.

"Father, did you name me after Princess Zelda?" she asks over the dinner table one day.

"Yes," he says softly.

"Was she pretty?" she wonders aloud.

"She was beautiful." Link sets down his fork. "You look just like her, except for the eyes."

They say no more. Since then, Zelda spends more time in the library, delving into books written about the Hero of Time and the Seventh Sage, and comes home late. Her father is not pleased, but says nothing. At least she isn't being kept out of town again; Fallon has kept his end of the bargain.

Zelda comes home another day, eerily quiet. She looks at her father, and he looks at her. He knows she knows who he really is. They wisely say nothing, and he prepares a bowl of soup for her.

* * *

Her eyes stare at the floor unblinkingly, which means she's trying to remember something. Zelda's sharp blue eyes are transfixed on the corner of her sheets. She thinks she can remember her mother's face. Her mother died when she was three. 

She remembers a woman of pale, translucent skin, and long blonde curls. Her face was ethereal and gentle as she embraced her father.

Her father knocks on the door, and comes in. "Good night," he says, and draws the covers up to her chin.

"G'night," she says sleepily.

"Don't kick the covers off," says Link as he kisses her forehead. He takes the candle from her nightstand, and shuts the door.

As Zelda walks through the villages and markets, she hears people say things about her parents, and how they weren't meant to be. She even hears things about how her father murdered her mother. And although she doesn't remember much, she knows they loved each other.

* * *

Link rolls over in bed late that night, listening to the raging storm outside, wide awake. It was sheer luck that he remembered to patch the roof in his daughter's bedroom just that day. He sighs and twirls the Hyrule Family Crest pendant around his neck. It is the only remaining thing he has left of his deceased wife. He is remembering how he got it... 

oOo

"This is such a silly argument, really!" Zelda protested, a large frying pan in hand. "Just let me cook tonight, you've been working all day-"

They're spending the night down at the cottage with their child.

Link ran a work-worn hand distractedly through his corn-colored hair. "Just look at you. The baby's going to come any day. You need rest!" He has the stir-fry ingredients laid out and assembled. "I'm almost done, go lie down on the couch...I'll bring you something to eat in a moment..."

It's true. Zelda is nine months pregnant with their second child. Doctors tell them it's a boy. The first child, also named Zelda, is lazily sprawled out on the rug, asleep. She's just under four years old, anddrooling on the carpet.

"Link, I'm serious!" Her tone is exasperated. "Please..."

"That's enough," the Hero of Time says, in a voice that almost sounds like he's a lecturing parent. He sweeps her off her feet and places her on the couch, careful not to step on his sleeping daughter on the way. The night is chilly, so he grabs two fleecy blankets from the closet and wraps his wife and child tenderly in them.

He notices that his coat is barely hanging onto the chair back, so he takes it and hangs it up on the coat rack. His present for Zelda's baby shower is in the pocket, so he's careful that the gold tissue paper doesn't peep through. He's bought a matching pair of necklaces with the Hyrule Royal Family Crest as the pendant.

With all said and done, he returns to the pan, and begins to cook.

"Oh, God," he hears. "Oh, God!"

He whips around from the stove. Zelda is having contractions. The baby is on its way. He hurries over to his wife. His daughter is awake, and scared; she never cries.

"I'll hitch up the horses and prepare the cart," he thinks quickly. There's no other way.

"No," says Zelda, sweat beading her forehead."No! Go get the doctor. It'll be faster."

Link ponders this for an instant. "Okay."

"Dada!" little Zelda tugs at her father's pants. "I want to go too!"

"Baby, Daddy can't take you with him right now," Link urgently says, patting her head. "Daddy'll be back in a bit, don't worry."

"Dada-a-a!" she wails, her blue eyes fill with tears.

"Link, take her with you," Zelda breaths. Her breathing is rapid. "We don't have time to argue, baby coming fast!"

"Fine," he says. He grabs her coat from the coat rack, and bundles her up warmly. He grabs his own coat, too."I'll be back in about a half hour. Think you'll be okay?"

Zelda nods, her eyes squeezed shut.

But he can almost swear that she's losing conciousness as he closes the door.

* * *

Link's got the doctor, and they're heading off toward the cottage, and young Zelda is half-asleep in Link's lap. But something isn't right. It's pitch black outside, but a patch of sky is glowing a bright red-orange. It's in the direction of the cottage. Link's heart skips a beat, but he tells himself it's just the people in the next village having that crazy bonfire celebration. 

As they approach the building, his breath is caught in his chest. The cottage is on fire.

He forgot to turn off the stove!

"Zelda!" he screams. "Zelda!"

The smoke is burning his eyes and strangling his lungs. Little Zelda is fully awake and buries her face in Link's coat. The Master Sword wielder rides swiftly back to the doctor and hands his daughter to him with the simple instruction: "Take care of her." The doctor nods, his eyes wide.

Link hurries Epona back to the burning building, though she is reluctant. He senses this, and jumps off. He goes to the well and douses several buckets of ice cold water on himself. Instinctively, he wrenches a fairly sizable tree branch from overhead. He cuts his hands in the process. Sprinting over to the burning door, he bellows and throws the branch into it. The door collapses, and he rushes in. The overwhelming smoke chokes him, and his eyes are stinging terribly. He continues, fire licking his skin, cooking his flesh; through the living room, the storage room, and into the kitchen. He is lucky. Miraculously, Zelda lies on the couch, relatively untouched. She's...sleeping?

He could feel his heart throb painfully in his ribcage. He lets out a yell of pain as the fire singe his back and arms. Adrenaline surging through his veins, he charges forward, his eyes on Zelda and nothing else. He scoops her up hastily, and makes his way out. He dodges several falling, flaming boards. The doorway is completely blocked by fire. He sees the doctor (baby Zelda glued to his leg), hurrying back and forth to the well, trying to clear the entrance enough for the exit. The doctor lets out a cry of impatience as he realizes the flames are too strong.

Link licked his dry lips, his eyes darting around for a reasonably sized gap. No way out.

He can't stay in the building for much longer. His head is going fuzzy and his lungs are filled with the poisonous fumes. Thinking fast, he holds Zelda up with one arm, and wraps her head and shoulders well with his coat, making sure there is a pocket of air inside.With his unconscious wife safely in his arms, he breaks for the door.

* * *

Incredible pain! 

The cool night air felt pleasant against Link's burned skin. He stumbles over to the doctor and sets Zelda down, unwrapping the coat. He's feeling rather faint.

Young Zelda lets go of the doctor's leg and hurries to her mother. She takes one look and begins crying. She never cried before. Ever.

Her mother's pale face is unmarred, and it's relaxed. It's almost ethereal, but then Link realizes. _She's not breathing._

His mind goes blank, and his words catch in his throat. For a moment, time freezes as he stares into the peaceful facade of his wife. His hands flutter at his side, unsure of what to do. Luckily, the doctor keeps a level head. He checks her pulse and for signs of life. None.

The gears in Link's head unstick and begin to spin furiously. Time begins to flow, and he works numbly, feverishly. but he knows it's futile. Her body is stiff and cold. There's no use trying to save the baby inside her womb either. The doctor picks up Link's coat and drapes it over the new widower's shoulders. The pair of necklaces Link bought tumbles to the ground beside Zelda's unmoving body. Pushing his glasses up higher on his nose, the doctor walks wearily to his own horse and retrieves a clean sheet. He wraps Zelda's body in it. In one night, the Hero of Time lost both his wife and his unborn child.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and it begins to rain. Baby Zelda's wails is drowned in the noise. His fingers clasp around the necklaces.

His mind is unconfortably empty. A steady, low buzzing rings in his ears. _There's just no way. _He's too stunned to cry.

Rain drenches them.

* * *

It's spring now. 

A fairly small cottage stands erect where the remains of the old one was. There are no signs that there ever was a fire. The air is clean and pure, the grass is fresh, and birds are chirping in the tree above the well. A young girl is playing in the yard. She laughs happily and bends down to examine a red flower.

Through glittering windows, a man watches the girl play. She is his only pride and joy. He's rather young- in his late twenties perhaps?- but his face is oddly drawn and distant. A rare smile graces his face, and suddenly, he looks years younger.

The girl has picked the flower and heads over to the tree. His smile instantly dissolves. She places the flower in front of a gravestone and stands still for a moment, hands at her side.

Standing up and brushing crumbs off his tunic, he goes to get the mail. Villagers are too afraid to deliver the paper directly to his home; they've tried sending the bundle of text by catapult a few days before, and promptly fell into the pig slops.

At the front door, he stands, squinting into the bright yellow sun, for any sign of an airborne packet. Soon enough, the newspaper is fluttering to the ground, tied securely by string. It's more accurate today, and lands in the just-weeded vegetable garden. He goes to fetch it, and unfolds it.

He wrinkles his nose in disgust as he reads the bold.

_"People Outraged by Verdict"_, he reads. He doesn't bother to read the rest: he knows what it's all about. The towns have all been buzzing about the death of Zelda, theories of how she died.

He folds the paper neatly in half and tosses it into the slops.

oOo

* * *

Zelda strolls the market, tailed closely by Fallon himself. 

She wanders up to a stall, and the proprietor looks apprehensively down at her. "Need anything, miss?"

"Do you sell paint? And paintbrushes?" Zelda asks, though she knows the answer.

The stained apron he wears is stretched tightly across his round belly. The proprietor shoots a nervous glance at Fallon, who stares back with frosty green eyes."Yes, I sell those here," the proprietor answers resentfully. "What kinds would you like?"

Zelda hands over thirty rupees. "Every color of paint you've got, and three brushes. Thin, medium, and thick, please."

* * *

Recently, Link has a new hobby of gardening. His talent is obvious, and his garden is blooming gorgeously. He picks the best blooms and goes to the village market. As he passes, the women break into quiet mutterings about who those bright flowers are for, but few hit on the truth. 

He picks flowers, and goes to the flower shop. Fallon's wife runs it, a baby girl on her hip. He picks flowers, and discusses its arrangement, amongst other things.

"My son fancies your daughter," she says to him.

"What makes you think that?" a small smile curls at his lips.

She shrugs. "He won't stop talking about her."

Link smiles half-heartedly and says nothing. He stares at the vase in his hand. "I'll buy this vase."

"What, you aren't happy?" Fallon's wife asks.

"I don't want our children getting hurt," he says simply. "Zelda's not exactly a social butterfly. Besides, you know what the kids will say when they find out."

"You know," she says after a moment, as she rings him up."You need to know how to live a little. Take a chance here or there."

"I've taken enough chances for a couple lifetimes, thanks," Link says, as he takes his purchase. Deep down, he's beginning to wonder about parenting.

He sighs. "Alright, but I'll trust your judgement here. You know better than I do."

"That's good," the captain's wife says, and hands him the bundle of flowers he brought in earlier. "Does that arrangement please you?"

"Yes, very much," says Link. "Thanks."

* * *

Zelda puts a slender finger to her lips thoughtfully. Her hands and forearms are mottled with paint, and she leaves a small streak of blue on her chin as she takes her hand away. She carefully dips the cleaned brush in yellow paint and adds more depth to the hair, humming softly. 

The painting is really quite extrodinary, and she steps back to take a look at her handiwork, except-

"Her cheek's too flat."

She traces the spot where the line should be with a finger. "That looks about right."

The brush fills in the cheek, and the artist steps back again and tilts her head to a side, nodding. "That's about good."

She waits for the paint to dry and rolls up the paper.

* * *

Link doesn't tell Zelda the date of his anniversary. He feels it's something she doesn't need to know. 

But he isn't surprised that she knows anyway.

He is busily tending to the farmwork, weeding out the garden, and feeding the animals. He hasn't seen Zelda all day, and that's just the way things are. It's near noon, and hesteps inside the doorway of the kitchen, glad for the comfort of shade from the searing sun. He scowls, squinting at the table until his eyes become accustomed.

The table is set, and a simple meal is laid out. His daughter stands before him, quiet and reserved as an eight-year-old can be, a large scroll of parchment in her hands nearly as large as she is herself, and faint traces of paint on her arms.

"Not the mayor's house deed, I hope?" Link jokes wryly. "Or anything dangerous?" He looks serious as he says the last part, eyeing the paper wearily.

Zelda shrugs. "Depends," she answers softly. "On how you define 'dangerous'."

Link scowls, and holds out his hand. "Give it here, Zelda."

The daughter gives a small sigh and a roll of her eyes, and hands the item over. "I made it," she says, as he begins to unroll the thing.

She goes into detail about how she made it, but Link doesn't hear. He's too busy catching his breath, staring at the painting. It's of his late wife, looking as beautiful and alive now as ever.

"Do you like it?" Zelda asks.

Link rolls the paper back together,closes his eyes, and draws a long, slowbreath. "Go hang this in the hallway, where it belongs."

"Papa?"

"I like it very much," he assures her. "It looks just like her."

* * *

The painting goes in the hallway, along with the rest of the pictures and knicknacks. It's brighter and more vibrant and more alive than anything he has. He thinks this painting has something everything else is missing. Sometimes, he flips the portrait over just for that reason. 

It's because on the back of the portrait of the Princess Zelda, is a very light charcoal sketch of the Zelda heiress and her father. It's the only thing of him and his child.

He smiles lightly, and puts the ingredients for dinner in the pan.

* * *

_Unbeing dead isn't being alive. -__E.E. Cummings_


End file.
